


Picking Up the Pieces

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-05-06
Updated: 2002-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-15 13:30:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14791412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: After pushing his friends away after getting badly hurt, who's willing to pick up the pieces?





	Picking Up the Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

Picking Up The Pieces

Author: Vada

Disclaimer: It's probably for the best that they aren't mine. God only knows what would happen to them if they were...

Spoilers: None

Feedback: Please (x3000) 

Genre: Angst/Drama

Main people in it: CJ and Josh

Rating: PG

Author's notes: The events here aren't mentioned in any eps but it was a thought that wouldn't get out of my head so I hope you enjoy it J

Summary: After pushing his friends away after getting badly hurt, who's willing to pick up the pieces?

 

'I'm fine CJ, just a little tired that's all.' 

    It's said with a smile and it's so hard to stop myself from hitting him, clawing at his eyes, just doing something to get that fake, mocking, _insulting_ smile off his face. 

No Joshua Lyman you are _not_ fine but you've said it so many times that by now you've sowed the first seeds of belief in their minds, if not in mine.

You see, they want to believe that you're ok because it scared them so much when you came into the White House that morning crying and bleeding. You! Crying! 

A smart and confident young man so heartbroken that he'd taken a knife to his arm to try and stop the pain. 

You don't know how much I wanted to hurt her that day, when Sam was cleaning and bandaging your arm and your tears were soaking into my dress. I wanted to bring her here and show her what she'd done to you and I wanted to hurt her so much so that she could feel what you felt. 

I still hate her.

But the hatred I feel for her is nothing compared the hatred I feel for myself. I knew what she was doing to you and what would come of it even before you realised that you loved her. Whenever I came to your office, I read the letters and the cards she sent you and I heard your conversations and the sickening feeling in my stomach got all the bigger as I watched the progress of your relationship.

Jesus Joshua, _why_ do you have to be so naïve when it comes to women? _Why couldn't you see what I saw?_

Guilt Joshua is the feeling that I feel now. Guilt because I took my pledge not to interfere in other people's lives to an extreme. That I never tried to stop this, even though I know you wouldn't have listened to me anyway. I should have _tried_ , at least. 

Isn't a conscience a wonderful thing?

For the first week I thought you'd never recover. We all did. But you're a fighter- or just plain stubborn- and eventually you started to change- started smiling and even laughing again. You acted as though nothing had happened and you've damned near pulled the wool over their eyes.

But not over mine, you can't fool me Joshua Lyman, I know only too well when someone's hurting but afraid to show it. 

Oh you laugh and joke with us, you even manage to flirt with Donna and then you go back to your office, you close that _fucking_ door and then you cry so much that the tears fall from your face and smudge the ink of the reports on your desk. 

And it kills me Joshua, because you _can't_ or you _won't_ let us help you. You've pushed us so far away that we don't even _know_ you anymore. Some of us don't even _want_ to know you now, or what you've become.

I wonder if you know what you've become? I think you do and I think that what you see hurts you. Perhaps you feel that this is the only way you can cope. You work so much now that you fall asleep at your desk most nights. To put it bluntly, you've become a work-obsessed, self-deceiving liar whom _no_ body wants to know. You've become so good at putting people down that now even Donna is afraid to go in to you in case you're in one of your Moods.

Hell you even make us knock if we want to enter your office.

So how does it feel to be Mr. Popularity?

As I raise my hand to knock at your door now, I hear you crying again, choking back the tears but as I turn to go I see Donna's look of mingled hurt and anger and I realise that this has _got_ to stop and that it has to stop _now_. You've pushed us away, the people who have come to love you and care about you but there is not one of us who would hesitate to forgive you if only you'd let us in. 

So I open the door anyway and I step inside, closing it swiftly behind me so that no one else sees what I can see. 

Josh is crouching under his window, his arms over his head and I can see fresh blood trickling down his arm. He has, however, heard me enter and he springs up now, red-eyed, rumple-suited and raging at being caught like this.

'What are you doing here CJ?' 

He's not even trying to conceal anything now. Anger, hurt and self-loathing flow from his words and batter at me but I steel myself for the worst and take a step forward. 

'This has to stop Josh. Look at yourself! You're sick and it's killing you.' I point to the blood to emphasise my point. Josh takes a staggering step away from the window and collapses in his chair, head in hands. 

'Just go away CJ. _Please..._ just go away.'

'You know I won't do that Josh.' And with that I take the final steps to where he is sat in a dejected slump but as I place my hand on his shoulder he jerks away from me, screaming.

'DON'T TOUCH ME!' 

I try to say something but he picks up a glass paperweight from his desk and throws it at me. 

'GET OUT!' 

It shatters on the wall behind me, showering me with sharp glass fragments and he lunges towards me with the intention of pushing me bodily out of the room. 

But his fragile emotional state has rendered him powerless and almost immediately he breaks down in my arms, dropping to the floor once again. I put my arms around him, resting his head on my shoulder, his body shuddering against mine as he cries.    

Through his sobs I make out what he is trying to say. 

'I'm so sorry CJ, I never meant to hurt you, I'm _so_ sorry...'

'Shush. Just let it all out Josh, just let everything out.'

Sam opens the door then, acute worry on his face, the others crowding behind him no doubt alerted by the screams.

_You okay?_ He mouths it at me so as not to disturb us too much and I nod back. The sight of his friend no doubt troubles him but he leaves us in peace. Sam will be discreet and other people will do Josh's and my work today. 

I return my attention to the distraught man in my arms.

'Does it ever get better CJ?'

I nod once again. 

For everyone's sake, it _has_ to get better and as for me, not even Armageddon will induce me to abandon him now.

My only regret is that I didn't step in to help him earlier. 

And, sitting on the floor with Josh's tears and Josh's blood soaking into my dress once again, I know that words will not ever be able to express the extent of my feelings towards you Emily Wandsworth. 

_Ever_.

        

  

1.5.6503.32258 


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